


Conserving Water

by starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Het, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. Yeah, that's about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conserving Water

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah blah, don’t own, blah blah blah, don’t sue, blah blah blah.  
> Beta: Thanks muchly to katakombs  
> Author’s Notes: Spoilery for S2.

House is in the shower when Allison walks into the locker room looking for him. It must be him, because the familiar blazer-tee shirt-button-down combination and a pair of bluejeans are piled on the bench, and his cane is propped next to them. Steam roils from the top of one of the shower stalls, and she puts her clipboard down and edges over to the side of the shower in question. “House? Are you OK?” _That headache really must have fried his brain cells_ , she thinks.

She’s not prepared for the shower door to suddenly pop open, a wet powerful hand clamping over her forearm. He drags her in with him, and the first thing she notices is that he’s naked. The second thing she notices is that she’s soaked. And the last thing she notices is that he’s got her against the tiled wall, kissing her while the water trickles warmly down over them both.

His hands are tearing at her clothing, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She moans and tilts her head back, water still sliding over everything, tiny caressing rivulets. Her top is gone, and then her bra. His arms are tight around her, holding her in place as his stubble slides over her wet skin, mouth traveling downward to encase a nipple. The inside of his mouth is even warmer than the water, and she arches and moans.

“House,” she tries again. Although she’s not even sure what she’s trying to say. It’s lost in the rushing water, anyways. And in her gasp of surprise, as he nips.

Her waterlogged shoes threaten to slip on the wet tiles underfoot, so she grabs onto his shoulders to keep her balance, kicking her footwear off as he starts to tear at her waistband. Slick heated skin and strong muscles flex under her hands as he gets her remaining clothing down around her ankles, and then off and away into the middle of the stall. _It’ll clog the drain and the floor will flood_ \- she starts to think. But then he stands back up, and his hand is between her thighs, forcing them apart. She clutches onto him still, her face pressed against his chest, his wet hairs tickling her cheek. He reaches behind her, but she can’t see what he’s doing. She’s too afraid to lean back, to look up into his eyes. She doesn’t want to break the spell. She just wants to keep feeling his wet flesh pressed up against hers. His erection throbbing against her belly.

He touches her between her thighs again, slick and slippery, and she realizes his hands are soapy. She tries not to dig her nails into him as he works up a lather between her folds, as he caresses every surface and the water runs ticklishly down her back and inner thighs.

Her world shrinks down until there’s nothing but steam and heat and moisture, and his dexterous fingertips sliding around her clit in slow circles. She loses the battle, digging her nails into his sinewy arms as she comes, trying not to cry out and alert people she’d rather not try to explain _this_ to.

She comes back to herself, once again sandwiched between the wall and House’s body. She dares to look up at him, and he smirks. But instead of spouting some rude and cutting remark, he just presses the soap into her palm, and limps back half a pace. Almost absently pushing her sodden clothing aside as he does, unclogging the drain. “If anyone asks, I was taking a shower, you thought you heard me slip and fall, and you burst in here without thinking, trying to help me. OK?” Numbly, she nods. If this is what House gets like when he has a headache, she’s going to give him nitro _daily_.

“Good. Now stop giving me your patented ‘worried’ look, and get on with it.” He motions to the bar of soap she’s holding.

“Can’t argue that we’re conserving water if only _one_ of us gets themselves ‘cleaned’, after all.” He points out. Ever logical and reasonable.

Allison decides she has no problem with that. None at all.


End file.
